


Another Legend of Tolkien's Ring

by merentha13



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2011-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 06:33:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merentha13/pseuds/merentha13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lads are sent on a "mission...quest...thing"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Legend of Tolkien's Ring

**Author's Note:**

> with sincere apologies to Professional and LOTR fans everywhere... *g*

“Why me, sir?”

Cowley ignored the scowl that accompanied his agent’s question.

“Minister Gandalf has a secret mission and has requested CI5’s help. He had specific requirements for the agents involved. You, Doyle, fit these requirements.”

Bodie snorted and raised a lascivious eyebrow in Doyle’s direction. Ray glared back in return.

“And what would those be… sir?”

“Your hair for one. Seems the group you will be infiltrating is all of a type… having very curly hair.” Cowley looked away from Doyle and Bodie would have sworn the man was turning pink.

Cowley coughed and turned back to Doyle.

“How are your feet, lad?”

Bodie watched with glee as Doyle’s jaw dropped.

“My what?” Doyle sputtered.

“Feet, man. Your feet! ‘Tis not a hard question.”

Doyle watched as Bodie valiantly tried to swallow either the laughter or his tongue.

“Um… they’re … fine, sir… just feet, really…”

Cowley allowed himself to be amused by Doyle’s discomfort.

“Another trait of the group you’ll be trying to fit in with is… well…very hairy feet.”

Bodie whooped. “Oh, he’ll fit in. A right hairy golly is our Doyle!” His breath whooshed out of him when Doyle’s elbow jabbed his side.

Cowley noted Doyle’s embarrassment. “No matter, we’ll explain the lack in some way…”

“Like a mutation!” Bodie supplied, neatly stepping out of the range of Doyle’s second elbow.  
Cowley’s glare silenced them both.

“A terrorist group is trying to obtain an object held by the group you’re to join.”

“Who are they when they’re at home?” Bodie asked, attempting a serious tone.

“An odd little group – they call themselves ‘Hobbits’. They are trying to keep the object out of the terrorists hands long enough to destroy it. You two will make sure that happens.”

“Why destroy it? Why not just put it someplace secure?” Despite himself, Doyle was becoming interested.

“It is a very dangerous talisman and it is priceless. The man who wields it can use its value to gain control over many weak men, especially those in government. The wealth it represents can make people forget everything they believe in just to have it. Its potential for wealth and power can turn even good men to the dark. It must be destroyed.”

“What is the object?”

“It is a ring.”

Doyle turned and met his partner’s eyes… and knew exactly what kind of ring Bodie was thinking of. The thought of just what Bodie would do to him if he got his hands on a ring like that made his jeans feel too tight.

Bodie raised both eyebrows and looked Doyle up and down. “A ring of power, eh?”

“Pillock,” Doyle whispered.

“Gentlemen,” Cowley’s rough brogue brought them back to attention.

“You will be accompanied by one of the Minister’s men, Strider. He’s a Ranger. That will be your cover too, Bodie.”

Doyle rolled his eyes. Just what the berk needed, another chance to play soldier.

“You know we work best on our own, sir.”

Bodie could see Doyle was not happy with this assignment.

“This is not up for negotiation, Doyle. You’ll meet Strider tomorrow night at the ‘Prancing Pony’. You’ll be leaving straight from there, so go home and pack up. I expect it will be quite warm where you’re heading, so plan accordingly.” He noted the unhappy looks. “Ach, on your bikes, lads.”

#

“This place gives me the creeps, Bodie.” Doyle looked around the Prancing Pony sceptically.

“Nah, looks like one of those medieval role-playing places… you know, where the waitresses dress up as wenches, and they don’t give you any forks…” Bodie’s jaw dropped as he watched barmaid deliver drinks to the table next to them, “… and look at the pints!”

A hand dropped on Doyle’s shoulder. “Gentlemen, you’re late.”

Bodie moved to push the hand off and felt a sharp jab in his stomach. Looking down he saw a blade poised against his belt.

“Easy.” A raspy voice quietly instructed. You’re here to meet Strider, correct?”

Both men nodded tightly. They couldn’t see their captor through the dark hood that concealed his features, but he radiated competence and strength.

“Well, you have. Let’s sit, shall we.”

Strider pulled back his hood and smiled at Doyle. He ran a finger through Doyle’s curls, nodding with approval. He noticed Bodie stiffen at his touch.

“You’ll do just fine with these.” He lifted a stray curl from Ray’s forehead. The make-up people did a good job with these.”

Ray pulled back affronted. “Hey, those are real!”

“My apologies, Mr Doyle.”

Bodie snorted.

“You have something to say?”

“Just keep your hands off him. No one messes with the golly but me!”

 

Strider stiffened. “What did you say?” Menace clearly rang in his voice.

“The golly...”

Strider relaxed and smiled. “Oh, Of course. I thought you said... never mind.”

Bodie and Ray exchanged puzzled looks. Shrugging, they settled back to finish their drinks.  
“Let’s go meet the others. They’ve taken a room upstairs.”

Strider led them up to a room at the top of the Inn. Doyle was immediately drawn to the weapons laid across the large feather bed.

“They have good assets here,” Doyle commented as he examined the weapons.

“Indeed they do!”

Doyle looked up to see his partner eyeing up Agent Arwen.

“Berk.”

Bodie let the insult pass as his attention was drawn to Minister Gandalf as he entered the room. He was clad in a white cloak and carried a long wooden pole.

"Look! The knob on his staff glows! Come in handy that would…er, for undercover work, yeah?”

Ray groaned in embarrassment.

There was another disturbance in the hallway. Three short, hairy footed individuals entered the room carrying bread and fruit. Strider gave them an irritated look.

“What’s this then?” he asked. “You’ve already eaten.”

“Second breakfast!” The announcement was greeted with enthusiasm, especially by Bodie.

“Did you hear that, Ray? Second breakfast!” He rubbed his hands eagerly together in anticipation. “I think I’m going to like this place.”

Doyle didn’t hear him. He was staring in horror at their hairy feet Cowley actually thought… had wanted…

The one called Pippen was studying the new pair and smiled when he say Ray’s hair. “He will fit right in with that mop!”

Minister Gandalf called them all together. They packed up their weapons, donned their cloaks and set off for their destination. After walking for several hours, they stopped for a rest. Looking at the map, Doyle saw their road snaked through an inhospitable land that surrounded a fire spewing mountain.

“Let me guess,” he chewed absently at his thumb nail while pointing at the flaming illustration on the map. “That’s where we’re going?”

“Yes,” Minister Gandalf confirmed Ray’s fears. “The palantir indicated that...”

“More food?” Bodie chimed in. “There’s never third breakfast?”

“Palantir, you dumb crud. Not plantain!” Doyle sighed in exasperation. “Don’t you ever think of anything else?”

“No need to be that way, Ray.” Bodie pouted. “ _If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world_ … And, you know what else I think about, sunshine.” He winked seductively.

“Leave off, Bodie.” Ray went to help Strider finish packing up the camp. They were back on the road quickly.

Towards evening they could see their destination. The sky was red, lit by the heat coming from beneath the mountain. The air was sticky and warm. They had packed away their cloaks. Strider spoke. “Bodie and Doyle will take first watch. The rest of you should try to get some sleep.”

The night was quiet. Doyle sat with his back to the mountain leaning against a large tree. He had a strange feeling, like he was breaking some unspoken rule of propriety or displaying bad manners. It was almost like the tree was feeling put upon by Ray’s using its trunk for support. He was almost positive he’d heard a “hrummp” and felt the tree shift away from him. He stood quickly and surprised himself by apologizing. He crossed the camp and found a rock to sit on. Minister Gandalf had given him the velvet bag containing the ring and he checked his pocket to make sure it was still there. He felt uneasy. Bodie had gone off into the woods for a slash; he wished Bodie would hurry back.

“Willum.” Doyle startled at the sound of Bodie’s name, or a sound close to Bodie’s name.

“Willum. Willum. My precious.” The rough voice was coming from behind him.

“Knock it off, Bodie.”

“Not Bodie. Gollum. Gollum. Give us the precious,” and the creature, because Ray couldn’t think of any other way to describe it, launched itself at him and knocked him over. As Ray toppled, he felt the creature grab the bag holding the ring. He reached for it, but Gollum, if that’s what he was, ran toward the mountain. Ray shouted warning and took off after the fleeing thief. He heard footsteps behind him; it had to be Bodie and Strider. Ray chased Gollum into a dark cavern that opened into a room filled with smoke and lava. Gollum was trapped between Ray and the stream of lava. He turned and struck out at Ray to try to get by him. Ray fell and Gollum moved past, but Bodie and the rest of their companions were blocking the way out.

Minister Gandalf moved forward and slammed his staff into the rocky ground. The orb at the tip glowed brightly and the Minister shouted, “You shall not pass!” His voice echoed weirdly through the cavern and the ground seemed to shake.

“Bloody hell,” Bodie muttered, “I’ve got to get me one of those!”

Ray moved stealthily toward Gollum from behind the creature and wrapped both arms tightly around the wriggling figure. “Get the ring,” he shouted. Bodie moved forward and snatched the bag from Gollum’s grasp.

“Destroy it!” Strider cried out. “Throw it in the flames.”

“No! My precious.” Gollum charged at Bodie. Doyle stuck out an un-hirsute foot as Gollum went past, tripping him. Gollum lost his balance and plunged into the boiling red river. Bodie threw the ring in after him. The Minister started chanting, “One ring to rule...”

#

He slowly woke, the old wizard’s words echoing in his mind as consciousness returned.

 _“One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,  
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them…”_

What a bizarre dream. Must have been a combination of the movie he and Bodie had watched and all the wine he had drunk. No more of that Australian wine! He remembered joking with Esther about it years ago.

He started to roll over and a tightness that was almost pain gripped his balls.

…one ring … to…bind them indeed…..

“Bo-day!!!”


End file.
